


Dive Or Drown

by Gargant



Category: Tales of Xillia
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-19
Updated: 2016-01-19
Packaged: 2018-05-15 01:16:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5766388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gargant/pseuds/Gargant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(Pre-game) Spirius agents Julius Will Kresnik and Rideaux Zek Rugievit have been dispatched to a fractured dimension to eliminate the divergence catalyst. Julius wants nothing more than to get the job done and go home. Unlucky for him, Rideaux has other plans. It's a special occasion, after all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dive Or Drown

**Author's Note:**

> Sure am writing more ridulius, huh!!! Never forget that Bisley Bakur had these two out destroying fractured dimensions when they were barely more than children. Xillia has all the best family values.

"I don't see why we have to be in such a rush."

Today of all days, Julius really didn't need any of Rideaux's insufferable games. He turned to fix his partner with a quelling look, tapping the collar of his Spirius uniform. "We're working. The sooner we finish this, the sooner we can go home."

Rideaux shrugged, shoulders back and one tiptoe grinding playfully into the dirt. "What's so exciting about home?"

_Ludger_ , Julius thought to himself, but kept silent. The less Rideaux knew about his personal life the better, not least of all because of his younger half-brother.

Oblivious to his thoughts, Rideaux continued. "Delays happen. This wouldn't be the first time a divergence catalyst gave us the runaround. Who would know any better?" Julius opened his mouth to retort when Rideaux flashed a brilliant smile, and said the last words Julius would have expected from him. "Besides, Julius. It's your birthday."

Rideaux shouldn't have known. _No_ one should have, except for Bakur—the reminder made him grimace. "How did you find out?" Julius asked shortly, ignoring the delighted gleam that appeared in Rideaux's eyes.

"Oh Julius, there are a lot of things I know that you don't."

"I know when my own birthday is," Julius reminded him tersely.

"Exactly. And it's today. We'll celebrate." Rideaux raised his arm in a sweeping flourish of the fractured world surrounding them. "When we're done here, none of this is going to exist. That means it's ours. Right now. Whatever you want, you can have. Just take it, Julius. Let's have _fun_."

Julius had a very grim idea of what _fun_ meant in Rideaux's twisted view. "We're going to find the catalyst, and we're going home. I'm not here to play games, Rideaux."

"I'm not saying we won't get the job done. We're just going to enjoy ourselves first. I know that's difficult for you." Turning smartly, Rideaux began walking in the direction of the city. Knowing the catalyst most likely lay in that direction, Julius grudgingly followed. The ground beneath their feet was dry, the soil cracking from too many days without rain. Not much different to their own dimension. No clues there.

"If you like, we can just get drunk," Rideaux continued, apparently unwilling to take no for an answer.

"If I wanted to drink myself stupid, I could do it back home," Julius muttered. It would hardly be the first time they'd done so, despite being below the legal drinking age. He could make himself look the part, in certain light, and Rideaux knew all the bars that wouldn't bother to check your age if you didn't make any trouble.

More than once they'd staggered home arguing drunkenly, and there had been times where they hadn't even made it that far, simply brawling in the streets before sleeping away their sins in the darkest alleys of Duval. The memories were sour and familiar, and Julius felt the first hint of a smile despite himself. "Besides," He said, "We don't have the money."

It was a mistake. When Rideaux turned around to face him, his smirk was almost feral. "That," He purred softly, "Is easy to fix."

-

In a matter of hours, this dimension would cease to exist; Julius understood that. He'd done vile things before in the name of eliminating his target. What did it matter? When he was finished all of his victims would have disappeared anyway.

He'd killed people before, but it wasn't something he did for pleasure. He didn't take any joy from it.

That was one quality that separated him from Rideaux.

"There we go," Rideaux murmured beside him, and when Julius saw the merchant just a few dozen yards ahead of them he knew what was coming. He had time to act, if he tried. Time to call out a warning, or tell Rideaux not to do it. Instead he slowed his pace, watching with morbid interest as Rideaux approached the innocent traveller.

It wasn't right. But did it really matter? As Rideaux unsheathed a dagger and drove it forward into the man's chest, Julius reminded himself that it didn't matter at all.

By the time he caught up, Rideaux's victim had already ceased struggling. Blood was draining black into the parched earth, looking so much like the mark of a catalyst that for a moment Julius wondered if they'd somehow stumbled into their target after all. Then Rideaux crouched down, riffling through the dying man's pockets as though nothing were amiss. Julius watched as light diminished in the merchant's eyes, and willed himself to feel nothing when it finally dimmed away.

The dagger lay still buried in the man's chest. Julius crouched and yanked it free, examining the angle of the blow. Precise, between the ribs in an upward stroke. It was a method he was acutely familiar with—he and Rideaux had practiced it together countless times. He'd never imagined seeing it used like this.

Beside him, Rideaux turned and smiled, a handful of gald and notes gathered in his gloved hand. "That should be enough to see us through the night. Well, Kresnik? Ready to try and loosen up?"

Julius stood, and closed his eyes against the sight of that cooling body sprawled at his feet. "You better make this good, Rideaux," He said, and didn't have to look to see the feral grin return to his partner's face.

-

It was early afternoon by the time they entered the city limits, clad in their Spirius uniforms and looking absurdly conspicuous. If Julius hadn't known better, he might have guessed that Rideaux planned it that way.

"We've got plenty of money," He'd announced, looking obscenely pleased with himself. "Let's start with a makeover."

"You won't be able to keep anything you buy," Julius had pointed out, but for some reason that only seemed to make Rideaux even more excited.

"All the more reason to buy it _all_. You can always go back for it tomorrow, in the prime dimension." Rideaux winked, with a brilliant smile so broad and sincere Julius didn't even try to reconcile it against the bloody dagger still sheathed at Rideaux's belt. "This is going to be the ultimate window-shopping experience."

And so it was.

The first task was to find something new to wear. Rideaux saw to his own needs first, trying on mauve and burgundy, magenta and crimson and even a vile acidic neon before finally settling on a villainous combination of deep red accented with black, silver pins holding his lapels neatly in place.

"Well tailored," Julius remarked, admiring the way fabric clung with comfortable uniformity around Rideaux's slim waist, the way the collar sat sharp and open to reveal a window of pale white skin and the thinest trace of collarbone. Rideaux seemed to revel in the attention of their shop assistant, and seemed equally to enjoy Julius's roving gaze.

"Your turn," he said, extending his hand.

What part of this Rideaux could possibly _enjoy_ utterly eluded Julius. His shoulders were too broad for everything, and he had neither the patience for nor any interest in waiting around for adjustments to be made. Even his hips were deemed 'unexpected' when attempting one particular pair of suit trousers, and Julius was just about to demand to know exactly _what_ part of his hips were so surprising when Rideaux appeared at his shoulder and announced, "This one should do nicely."

It was far more garish than anything Julius would have chosen for himself, though quite understated by Rideaux's fluorescent standards. A simple dark blue was offset by a shirt of unpleasantly florid teal. "It will complement your eyes," Rideaux informed him dryly, enlisting the harried shop assisant into agreeing with him. "And if you don't like it, then maybe you should try losing weight."

Not advice he needed to hear from a stick like Rideaux. Julius put on the suit with grumpy acceptance, and looked into the mirror with low expectations. But, of course, Rideaux had the right of it. It wouldn't have been his first choice, but it was an acceptable one.

"We'll take these," Julius announced, and handed over their stolen money.

Once they were outside, sharply dressed and with Julius carrying their neatly folded uniforms, Rideaux gave him a devious smile. "Are you going to admit it?"

"Admit what?"

"It felt good, didn't it?" When Julius only stared at him, tight-lipped, Rideaux continued speaking as though nothing else had been said. "I've figured out what we're doing next. Something that we _can_ take home with us."

-

Haircuts had never seemed expensive to Julius, but with Rideaux calling the shots everything  cost about ten times more than what Julius was used to. Even so he found himself pausing at every shop window, admiring the neat professionalism of his hair and the way the stylist had fostered a look that seemed both natural and sophisticated. Maybe there _was_ something to be said for splashing out every now and then.

Rideaux had taken to growing his hair recently, and it was starting to pay off. Trim and sharp in this latest style, hair fell in careful even lines around his face. Once again, Julius found himself admiring.

They went to a pasta restaurant for dinner, and laughed over glasses of wine and a table overflowing with foods they barely touched. _Why not order everything?_ Rideaux had joked, and when Julius had actually done so Rideaux had almost fallen from his chair laughing at the polite horror that clouded their unfortunate waiter’s eyes. Julius honestly couldn't remember the last time either of them had laughed like this. Pouring himself yet another glass of heady wine, he found he was finally beginning to sincerely enjoy himself.

"We should have done this sooner," Rideaux said, slouching in his chair, such a paradox of primly-dressed beligerence than Julius had to smile. "We shouldn't have waited for an excuse."

"Is that all my birthday is? An excuse?"

"Oh, _please_ , don't get all offended." Rideaux picked up a fork and began jabbing little dents into the table as he spoke. "These dimensions are a sandbox of opportunity. Don't you wish you'd done things differently before now? Just think of all the possibilities."

"Like what?" Julius asked, watching each parallel line of dots appear beneath Rideaux's fork.

"Kill someone you hate. Fuck someone you like." Rideaux's expression on him had cooled, sudden and sharp, an iceberg caught adrift on foreign tides. "Maybe both."

_I don't have anyone like that_ , Julius thought, and swallowed the lie. He hated Bakur. He hated his mother for leaving him. He hated Ludger, for making his life even more complicated. He hated all the people around him for not knowing any different than their cosy lives. He hated Rideaux. He hated himself.

And he liked them too. He missed his mother, who'd had no choice. He cared for Ludger, who was showing him a better way. He liked people, because to do anything different would make him inhuman, wouldn't it? And if he didn't love Rideaux, couldn't love Bakur, would never forgive himself, well—that was only to be expected, wasn't it.

"What's the point?" He said, placing the last of their gald down on the table and rising to his feet unsteadily. "None of it would last."

Julius walked away, ignoring the words Rideaux addressed to his back. "You've got no imagination, Kresnik."

-

The air outside was stifling, the sun had already set, and Rideaux caught up with him far too soon.

"I hope you're not planning to hunt that catalyst _now_. The night's only just begun."

"We've been gone long enough," Julius replied, in a voice that brooked no argument. Naturally, Rideaux argued.

"You're drunk. You'll get yourself killed. Even if you succeed you can't report back to Spirius reeking of booze. You'll be reprimanded, and then _I'll_ be reprimanded. Not a very happy birthday, Julius." Rideaux sidled closer, slipping an arm around Julius’s shoulders. His eyes were hooded and narrow, undeniably dangerous. "Besides, I've got another present for you. You'll like it.”

Julius watched suspiciously as Rideaux reached into the lining of his new jacket and pulled out a small tinted bottle. _More alcohol_ , he thought, until Rideaux raised it to his face and smirked. "Sniff," He ordered, and Julius dutifully obeyed.

It was strong, sharp, not the sort of cologne he would usually wear. It seemed familiar, but richer than whatever memory was being triggered. Julius frowned. "It doesn't suit me."

"That's because it's for _me_ , idiot."

"You just said—"

"I'm going to wear this," Rideaux drawled, breath hot and wine-laced against his ear, "And then I'm going to let you fuck me. How's _that_ for a gift?"

There should have been a thousand reasons to reject such an offer. Acutely aware of Rideaux's closeness, the scent of his freshly pampered hair beneath the stronger scent of that expensive cologne, Julius's shook his head and trusted stupidity to save him where good sense was failing. "We're out of money. I'm not having you outside in some dingy alley."

Something sparked in Rideaux's eyes, something that made Julius uncomfortable  to witness, but then his savage smirk was back, and Rideaux was Rideaux again. "Didn't I tell you this already?" He whispered, leaning into Julius. "Money's the easy part."

-

The bar Rideaux picked was a sleazy-looking dive with a bouncer at the door, but Rideaux flashed a confident smile, slipped something into the bouncer's hand, and they were both ushered inside. Julius cast a quick look around before ducking into the doorframe—trash lined the streets, and the buildings were steeped in deepening shadows. Just like Rideaux to find somewhere so disgusting.

"Just wait for my cue," Rideaux told him quietly. "I'll meet you in that alley outside." The look Rideaux gave him was absolutely patronising. "Think you can handle that, Kresnik?"

"Shut up," Julius muttered in response, found himself a table, and watched.

They were the youngest people here, he thought, and it showed in Rideaux's face as he walked up and down the bar. Picking a target? It seemed that way—when he finally sat down it was next to a man with coarse dark hair, stubble on his chin, a tired look to his eyes and a bottle resting on the bar beside him.

It didn't take long before the two were laughing together. Julius watched, ignoring the queer sense of discomfort that settled in his stomach as the conversation between them deepened. Rideaux was animated, flirtatious, and painfully insincere, but the tired-eyed stranger seemed to be eating it all up. When they leaned toward each other Julius grimaced, not sure what sick game Rideaux was playing _this_ time.

Rideaux's hair really _had_ grown long. It draped forward now, and Julius had no doubt that it was something Rideaux was doing on purpose, cocking his head in such a way that his long dark hair skimmed along the stranger's forearm. Apparently it was too enticing to resist—Julius watched with gritted teeth as the man laced his fingers through Rideaux's fine hair. When Rideaux giggled, loud and insincere, Julius found his jaw was aching, and when Rideaux finally swept him a meaningful glance Julius couldn't have left the bar fast enough.

The alleyway was two buildings down, littered with refuse and cast into darkness. Julius ducked inside and ran his hands over his face, exhausted and missing the numbing taste of alcohol.

It wasn't a long wait. He heard Rideaux's voice as they approached, and stepped back deeper into the shadows looming to either side.

Rideaux had a cheerful skip to his step, but his smile had been replaced by an expression that looked wholly out-of-place, an emotion that Julius found difficult to place. The stranger followed along behind him, leering and oblivious. Julius hung back, watching as the two walked into the alleyway and out of the glaring bustle of the city nightlife. The moment hung still and tense. His heart seemed far too loud.

If there was one thing Rideaux had always been good for, it was moving fast. The drunken stranger barely had time to startle before he had a dagger at his throat, one arm twisted up behind his back and Rideaux's knee digging in behind his own. Julius stepped forward, motions dulled by whisky and wine, but it was perfectly clear that Rideaux had no need of his help.

"You little tart—" The stranger started, then gasped and sputtered fruitlessly as the blade bit into his flesh. The cut was shallow, but deep enough to draw a thread of blood. He tried a different tactic, fists opening and closing in helpless terror. "Whatever you want, just take it. I won't come after you."

"What do you think, Julius?" Rideaux crowed, his voice soft and musical, and unmistakably predatory. "This is the kind of man who likes to pick up little boys. Uses them up and spits them out with a couple of gald to try and save their spent dignity. Is he a friend of ours?"

It was hardly the first time Julius had been made to face the worst of what this world had to offer. Yet it was Ludger's face that floated up in his thoughts, the child he was only just beginning to understand. The thought of a man like this one, trying to take advantage...

Julius knew what was going to happen, just as he'd known with the merchant. Maybe it was a choice, or Rideaux was rubbing off on him, or maybe it was just the wine going to his head and making him unstrung and irrational—whatever the reason, Julius shook his head. "Of course not," He said, and met Rideaux's gaze. "He's no friend of mine."

Rideaux's eyes gleamed in the darkness.

"Julius doesn't have many friends," He hissed into the man's ear. "Too bad for you."

By the time Julius had stepped forward Rideaux had already opened the man's throat. That didn't stop Julius from drawing his own blade and punching it into the man's lung, hilt deep, and by the time they'd levered the corpse onto the filthy ground Julius's suit was smattered thick with blood. Rideaux was almost sparking with energy, a look of supreme satisfaction on his face as he wiped his dagger clean against the dead man's shirt.

"Don't worry," He said, glancing at Julius's bloodstained chest. "That dark blue should cover it up nicely, especially in the dark. I think you'll get away with it."

Julius felt sick. The question was on his tongue before he could stop himself, voice heavy with the weight of too many worlds. "How come you knew about this?"

Somehow Rideaux seemed to understand his meaning. When he stood, slow and poised, his smile had a static quality to it, a jagged smudge beneath distant eyes. "I really hope," He said, "That you're not trying to brush me off, Kresnik."

-

The hotel wasn't luxurious, but it was close at hand, and that was all they needed. Rideaux approached the front desk with all his usual swagger. Julius excused himself and disappeared into the nearest bathroom, locking the door and moving to the sink. The cold water bit his face, sobering. Julius stood up and looked into the mirror.

His suit was stained, and noticeably, but it was just as Rideaux had said—the red had been swallowed by deep blue, dark on dark. Perhaps no one would know any better.

It wouldn't matter after tonight.

Their room was on the eighth floor, equipped with an ensuite bathroom, a double bed, and very little else. That didn't matter either. Rideaux shut the door behind them, reached into his pocket, and unceremoniously tossed a bottle of lubricant in Julius's direction. "Looks like this is a common spot for hook-ups," He said, shrugging out of his jacket. "They sell all kinds of things at the reception. Try and remember that for next time."

Julius's stomach roiled at the thought of there being a next time. He turned the bottle over in his hands—very standard, very cheap—and watched as Rideaux finally took the time to apply that expensive bottle of cologne. Then he continued to undress, smirking and methodical, eminently pleased with himself.

Only after his shirt was loose and his pants unfastened did Rideaux finally pause and give Julius a questioning look. "This isn't a striptease, Julius."

"No," Julius replied, lowering himself to sit on the edge of the bed. This whole day had been a disaster, and none of it was going to matter after tonight—Julius shook his head, and decided to push. "But it's _my_ birthday. And I didn't say you could stop."

If Rideaux had merely paused before, he was frozen now. Julius smiled despite himself, glad to finally have Rideaux on the defensive.

"Isn't this my present? I'm waiting."

Already, Julius could see the promise of revenge forming in the storm of Rideaux's eyes. Reminding himself again that it didn't matter, Julius sat back more comfortably, knees open and palms pressed flat against the bedsheets behind him.

Finally, sighing and petulant, Rideaux gave in. Julius watched, poised as he could manage, as Rideaux finished shedding the primly tailored suit he'd been so proud of just hours ago. By the end Julius had the distinct impression that Rideaux was once again enjoying the attention, even if his expression never quite lost its sour edge.

It wasn't the first time Julius had seen Rideaux's scars, the careful medical ones or the still-healing damage left over from previous assignments in other fractured dimensions. _That's something else we get to keep_ , Julius thoughts, and muffled a snort of amusement. When Rideaux tensed and glowered Julius finally wondered if maybe he was still too drunk to be doing this. He stood, and made an inviting gesture.

"On the bed," He prompted, stepping back.

Rideaux's expression narrowed in undisguised frustration, but he did as he was told, flinging himself down and splaying his arms across the pillows in a typical melodramatic display of petulance, stomach exposed and legs crossed at foot and ankle. Julius raised two fingers, made a slight commanding gesture—lip curled in displeasure, Rideaux unhooked his ankles and spread his legs.

In truth, Julius hadn't been sure how far he wanted to take this, or what to do next. The look in Rideaux's eyes was equal parts enticing and dangerous, and he wasn't sure if he could push this much further before things took a violent turn. On another day that might have been precisely what he wanted. Right then, heady on wine and still bloodstained, Julius wasn't sure he could stand it.

The sight of Rideaux, open and exposed, proved a font of new inspirations. Julius tossed the lube, and gave a patronising nod of approval when Rideaux snatched it out of the air.

"Get yourself started," He said.

"Like hell," Rideaux immediately snapped back, patience finally broken. "You don't get to keep your hands clean. I said you could fuck me, not— _this_."

"Get on with it," Julius snapped in turn, even as he began to remove his own suit. Rideaux’s attention was caught, sharp and attentive—Julius removed his jacket, and paused. "Get _on_ with it," He said again, and dropped it to the floor.

Rideaux opened the bottle of lube and began coating his fingers, never once taking his eyes off of Julius.

Julius didn't know what to focus on. He couldn't deny himself the opportunity to watch Rideaux's hands work, but there was something undeniable about the look on Rideaux's face—the way that cagey, guarded veneer slowly began to dilute and drift away, gradually replaced by a slow suffusion. By the time Julius knelt on the bed it seemed as though Rideaux had almost forgotten his presence—he jolted back to attention and belatedly remembered to glare, a soft flushed glow to his cheeks.

In the morning, he'd hate himself for this, Julius thought, brushing his fingers along the inside of Rideaux's thigh. In the morning, none of this was going to matter. Julius pressed his face into the beaded sweat at Rideaux's neck, and stifled himself in the scents of blood and sex and cologne.

-

"Enjoyed that, did you?" A voice sang softly into his ear, all sugar and salt and acid rain. Julius rolled deeper into his pillow and tried to forget. "You're a fucking boor, Julius." The voice said, and drifted away.

-

When morning dawned, he woke first.

He was used to the morning nausea by now. Julius rose to his feet and willed the momentary dizziness to pass, stumbling into the bathroom and leaning over the sink to swallow as much cool water as he could manage. With that simple gesture the worst of it passed—he'd always been better with hangovers than Rideaux. The headache would lessen with time. For now, he deserved every bit of it.

Rideaux was still asleep. Julius stood at the edge of the bed and looked down at him, and then around at their small hotel room. There was his suit, paid for with blood money and now equally ruined. The bottle of lube had fallen to the floor, spilling what remained of its contents out onto the carpet.

It didn't matter.

Rideaux was sleeping on his side, arms curled in toward his chest and legs coiled beneath him. His hair was a mess, and Julius could already imagine the way he would react to that unsightly bruise blossoming between his neck and shoulder. A visceral memory, salt and cologne, sprung to Julius's thoughts, and with it the nausea returned. Growling, he turned away and searched for the bag containing their Spirius-issued agent uniforms, dressing himself in measured silence.

It didn't matter. None of this did. Reality was waiting for him.

Julius left Rideaux sleeping, and walked away without looking back.

-

By the time he made it back to his apartment, with the divergence catalyst eliminated and his paperwork filed at Spirius HQ, it was almost midday and Rideaux had already left him four voice messages. Julius deleted each one without listening, and tried not to think about what would happen the next time they saw each other.

He found Ludger sleeping in the living room, curled up on the couch beneath his duvet with his arms pillowing his head. On the table sat a small homemade cake and a hand-drawn card. There was no way Ludger should have known about his birthday, but somehow he had. He'd known, and he'd waited up to surprise an older brother who hadn't bothered coming home.

Julius sat down, laced his fingers careful through Ludger's sleep-mussed hair, and wondered if there was anyone alive more disgusting than he was.


End file.
